


Beer on the Pier

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Blood and Water [15]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Beer on the pier."Rodney tries to navigate his new relationships with John and Evan, and the final resolution is beer on the pier.





	

In the days that followed that kiss, that _yes_ , Rodney’s world was turned upside down. Where the absence of the soldiers had been stressful and the pending influx of scientists had been welcome, the absence of the soldiers was now a boon and the influx of scientists was dreaded, because right now, Rodney and John (and Evan) had Atlantis to themselves. Radek was there in the background, but whenever John sauntered into the lab and asked if Rodney wanted a coffee break, Radek would smile knowingly and salute them with his own mug, tell them he was fine on his own.

Coffee breaks were generally hookup breaks, Rodney following John back to his quarters - where he had a seriously primo coffee maker, like the kind a cafe might have - and the two of them sharing blowjobs or handjobs while the coffee brewed, then trading coffee-flavored kisses for the rest of their coffee break. They’d self-imposed a half hour limit on their coffee breaks, which Rodney assumed was to ensure they maintained productivity and didn’t arouse suspicion - until one time Evan asked John if he wanted to break for coffee, and they disappeared together, and reappeared about half an hour later, John with that post-sex glow Rodney knew so well.

Rodney wasn’t jealous of Evan’s time with John, especially since he had plenty of time with John. He still wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what to do with Evan in the mix. Technically Rodney was the one getting into John and Evan’s mix, but -

But about two days into the new routine of coffee breaks with John, Evan surprised the hell out of Rodney by asking him for help with jumper maintenance. While Evan was no engineer or electrician, the scientist on his team was a botanist, and a good pilot, or so Evan told Rodney, needed to be able to do rudimentary repairs on his own craft. John’s favorite jumper (Jumper One) was named Delilah. Evan’s favorite jumper was Jumper Seven. John had named it Stacy, for some pop culture reason Rodney found baffling but that made Evan rolled his eyes. Evan called his jumper Seven, though there was note of fondness in his voice.

“I thought you were a surveyor, back on Earth,” Rodney said.

“I was, for the SGC.”

“Most surveyors aren’t very - combat-y,” Rodney said.

Evan, on his back beneath the console, held his hand out for a screwdriver. Rodney handed it to him. “Most surveyors didn’t grow up on the streets of San Francisco, boosting cars and getting into fist-fights.”

“Touché.” Rodney noticed that the hem of Evan’s shirt had ridden up, exposing a sliver of golden flesh. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull the shirt down and cover Evan’s skin or if he wanted to pull it up and see more. Ever since that forced conversation in the lab, Evan had been more personable with Rodney, but nothing more. “Have you found it?”

“Yep. Just need to get this panel open and then you can show me how to rewire the drive pods.”

Rodney watched the play of muscle beneath Evan’s skin as he wrestled with the console panel cover, and then Evan slid it out from under the console and set it aside.

“Ready?” Evan asked.

Rodney rolled up his sleeves. “Scoot over. I’m coming in.”

Evan slid aside obligingly, and Rodney laid on his back, wriggled his way up beside Evan and under the panel, and suddenly he was very aware of the fact that they were lying next to each other in a fairly small, enclosed space.

“Bit of a tight fit,” Rodney muttered, and Evan quipped without missing a beat,

“That’s what she said.”

Rodney huffed. “Really?”

Evan cleared his throat. “Sorry. Marines can have really juvenile humor. As can other soldiers. It’s kind of reflexive at this point.”

John had never displayed that kind of humor. “Really? Because John never -”

“Are you kidding? He’d have corrected me with ‘that’s what _he_ said’ and tried to convince me to have a quickie in the pilot’s chair.”

Rodney glanced at Evan. “Really?”

Evan shrugged, his expression suspiciously innocent. “Yeah.”

And then Rodney realized. “You asked me to help you with jumper repairs so we could bond and maybe have a quickie?”

“I wasn’t angling for sex,” Evan said. “But bonding is good, right? For John.”

“We’re men,” Rodney said. “We don’t do hints.”

“I kinda think me blowing you in the middle of John’s quarters was a bit more than a hint,” Evan said. “I don't do hints. I kissed him first, that time we were in the back of his car when we were teenagers.”

“And here on Atlantis?”

“He made the first move.”

“John?”

“I might have goaded him on a little.”

“And he kissed you?”

“He fucked me in the showers after that whole kerfuffle with Ronon and Ford.”

Rodney knew soldiers could be pretty crass, but he associated that more with Marines, and Evan had always come across as - polite. Well-mannered. That whole officer and a gentleman stereotype. Something about the way the word ‘fuck’ fell from his lips was disconcerting. “You goaded him into having sex with you? What did you say, I bet you can’t seduce me?”

“Not a lot of seducing went on.”

Rodney eyed him. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Why, you wanna be seduced?”

Rodney had forgotten how wry Evan could be. “I’m in love with John.”

“As am I.”

“You were, uh, pretty fun. That one time.”

“I aim to please.”

“John wouldn't mind?”

“John would be first in line to watch.”

Rodney frowned. “But - you’re not really _into_ me, are you? I mean, you’re fond of me or whatever because I love John, which is something you can probably relate to.”

“Probably.”

“But fondness isn’t very sexy.”

“You’re sexy, Rodney McKay.” Evan turned his head and caught Rodney’s gaze, held it.

Rodney wanted to squirm like an embarrassed teenager, but he forced himself to hold still.

“Probably no one’s ever taken the time to explain,” Evan said, “but did you know your jawline is perfect? I’m an artist. I know when something looks perfect. And the line of your jaw is just square enough that I know you’re strong and virile - that whole caveman instinct. Your mouth -”

“Is crooked,” Rodney muttered.

“Is beautiful. Wide-lipped, mobile, so expressive. Deliciously soft to kiss.”

Rodney’s memory of how sultry Evan’s voice could be had obviously been inadequate, because the real thing was. Well. Rodney’s skin felt hot, and he didn’t think it was all blushing.

“You have incredible shoulders. John’s beautiful, but compared to you, he’s a little narrow in the shoulders. You have raw strength in your shoulders and chest. I look at you and think - now there’s a guy who could pick me up and do me against a wall,” Evan continued, and for one second Rodney was utterly distracted by that image, him pressing Evan up against a wall, Evan’s legs around his waist.

Evan added, “Don’t get me started on your hands. Your hands -”

“So maybe you are into me,” Rodney cut in. “But I’m not beautiful. John’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful. But I -”

“Want me to show you just how beautiful you are?” Evan asked.

“Well -”

The jumper doors hissed shut. Evan raised his eyebrows. Almost super-gene came in handy.

Rodney shivered under the heat in Evan’s gaze and said, “Okay.”

Given the precipitousness of Evan’s previous hook-ups with John and also Rodney, Rodney was prepared for something fast and frantic, Evan tugging him out from under the console and rolling on top of him and going to town, and given how turned on Rodney was, he really wouldn’t have minded.

So he was unprepared for the slow devastation Evan proceeded to wreak on Rodney’s body.

They slid out from under the console, yes, but then Evan pressed against Rodney’s side, mouthed against his jaw.

“I told you,” he said, “your jawline is perfect.” And he nibbled that spot just behind Rodney’s jaw, up by his ear, that made his toes curl. How did he know about that?

“And your lips,” Evan continued, tracing over them with a feather-light fingertip. “So beautiful. So soft. But your throat - oh, your throat, when you turn your head just so, I want to -” He nipped his way down Rodney’s throat to the juncture of throat and shoulder, sucked a tiny red mark right at the spot that made Rodney squirm.

Then he slid down, and this was it, he was going to do hot-filthy-things with his mouth -

He untucked Rodney’s shirt, eased the fabric up an inch, pressed a kiss to Rodney’s hip. “Your skin is lovely, all pale and golden, prettiest pink when you’re all flushed and worked up.” He nosed the fabric higher, kissed his way up Rodney’s ribs. All the while he rubbed circles around Rodney’s navel with his thumb. Something about the gesture was unconsciously fond and very, very distracting.

Rodney squirmed impatiently, but Evan was so slow, so deliberate. When he finally eased Rodney’s shirt up over his head, Rodney was practically quivering with need.

But Evan was still exploring gently, walking his fingers along the planes of Rodney’s chest.

“Your chest and shoulders are amazing - broad, powerful. When you were with John, I only caught glimpses, but going through the gate on the regular has treated you very, very well.”

Rodney’s heart stopped when Evan leaned in, pressed a kiss to his sternum. His hands were everywhere, brushing along Rodney’s collarbones, tracing his ribs, stroking over his belly, but his lips were so, so close to one nipple, and with every exhale, the puff of breath against Rodney’s sensitized flesh was -

Rodney whined in the back of his throat.

Evan slid his way down Rodney’s body again, and he reached for the button on Rodney’s fly. “You have great thighs, too. When you had your legs all tangled with John’s, I was so jealous. All I could imagine was you, with your legs around my waist while I -” His breath hitched.

He unfastened one button, then another, his touch impossibly light and delicate for a man who was a soldier, who killed people and aliens for a living.

Rodney’s cock was straining against his pants, and when Evan finally got them open, the easing of the pressure was both a relief and a disappointment, because Rodney wanted, _needed_ pressure and friction, needed release, needed -

Evan slid Rodney’s pants down but not his briefs, skimming the fabric down with sure hands. He paused to tug off Rodney’s shoes and socks, then drew Rodney’s pants off the rest of the way.

“You really are beautiful, Rodney,” Evan murmured, cradling one of Rodney’s feet. “From head to toe.” He bent and pressed butterfly-light kisses up the arch of Rodney’s foot, swirled his tongue around Rodney’s ankle. Evan stroked his hands up Rodney’s calves, pressed soft kisses behind Rodney’s knees - that made him buck his hips. Evan smoothed his hands over the downy hair of Rodney’s thighs, and he was practically lying between Rodney’s legs.

“Evan,” Rodney gasped.

“Rodney,” Evan murmured, voice rough.

“Evan, please, I need -”

“You need,” Evan said softly, “to understand you’re beautiful.” He eased down Rodney’s briefs. His breath ghosted over the head of Rodney’s cock, and Rodney couldn’t help it.

He came with a sharp cry, spasming, and Evan knelt between his thighs, stroking his flank and murmuring soothing nothings until Rodney came down.

Evan, of course, had a pack of tissue in one pocket, and he cleaned Rodney gently, tucked him back into his clothes, and curled beside him while he dozed.

Rodney stirred when Evan did, Evan who’d divested both of them of their radios somewhere during the whole process of - was that really sex? It was incredible, whatever it was.

Evan scooped up his radio. “Go for Lorne. Yes, Radek, Rodney’s almost done showing me how to rewire the drive pods. I’ll let him know you want to see him when we’re done.”

Rodney nodded his acknowledgment weakly.

Evan smiled at him. Then he turned and crawled back under the pilot console. “So, those drive pods?”

It was like some kind of flood gates opened.

Where Rodney had expected Evan to actually draw up some kind of schedule so John could maximize his time with the both of them, Evan surprised Rodney even more with his spontaneity. Rodney would be heading to the lab from the mess hall and find himself dragged into a transporter, disgorged into an abandoned hall, and pressed up against the wall. The first time, Evan sank to his knees, sucked one of Rodney’s fingers into his mouth, cupped a hand between Rodney’s legs, and sucked and rubbed till Rodney came, sharp and sudden.

The next time, Evan bundled Rodney into a storage room off of a busier thoroughfare, locked the door with a thought, and stroked Rodney till he came, one hand up Rodney’s shirt and stroking his nipples, one hand down his pants stroking his cock, mouthing along his neck hard enough to make Rodney’s hips thrust but not quite hard enough to leave a mark.

Rodney never knew when to expect Evan to spirit him away for a quick and dirty orgasm, because there was seemingly no rhyme or reason or pattern to the encounters. Although Evan always did manage to catch Rodney when he had a moment to spare, and never tried to start something with him when he was in the middle of something genuinely important. Since Evan ran Atlantis’s sub-rosa economy, maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Evan could find out when Rodney could afford to take a break - and maybe needed a break, with the influx of new personnel.

And with the influx of new personnel, things were - riskier. There was a greater chance of Rodney getting caught with John or Evan, or them getting caught with each other. And all three of them had less spare time, what with Rodney herding the new scientists and Evan constantly away on city exploration missions and John breaking in the new soldiers. Rodney still had coffee breaks with John, and Evan still surprised Rodney, but it was difficult to make time to even socialize.

Teyla, Ronon, and Keller returned, Teyla and Ronon to help John break in the new Marines, Keller to train up the new medical staff, and even then AR-1 rarely had a chance to eat together. At the end of the day, Rodney collapsed into bed (sometimes with John beside him).

Evan had yet to broach that barrier, though Rodney knew John slept in Evan’s bed as well (and sometimes Evan must have slept in John’s - John’s awesome coffee maker was actually Evan’s).

After a couple of weeks, Rodney realized. Whenever he and Evan hooked up, it was always Evan pleasuring Rodney. Granted, Evan could come just from blowing Rodney, so it wasn’t like Evan didn’t have fun in their encounters, but usually it was so wham-bam-thank-you-sir that Rodney didn’t have a chance to try to reciprocate for Evan.

Evan, Rodney realized, was waiting for Rodney to make the first move.

So Rodney did. It took a lot more planning and coordinating than Rodney would have liked to admit - and he had a lot more respect for Evan’s ability to get things done seemingly at the drop of a hat - but he managed to do it.

He caught Evan one afternoon, when he knew Evan mostly had plans to hang out and do paperwork in the military command office.

“Hey, I was going over your most recent city exploration reports, and there was something I wanted to check out personally instead of leaving it to Radek.” Rodney stood in the doorway, hoping he sounded casual. He’d won a drama award. He could sound casual if he wanted to.

Evan glanced up from his datapad. “Hey, Doc.”

Titles were Evan’s way of maintaining boundaries between work life and personal life. Rodney was always Doc when they had their clothes on, just like John was _sir_ or _colonel_.

“What is it you want to check out?”

“A possible lab out on the far end of Sector One. Might be where drones are stored and possibly even manufactured.”

“Drones?” Evan perked up. Then he frowned. “None of the scientists mentioned it.”

“They’re new,” Rodney said dismissively. “But I looked at the reports on the energy readings and the emission pattern looked familiar, so I’d like to check it out.”

“Sure. Right now?” Evan started to rise.

“If you have the time.”

“I do. Want me to round up a couple of Marines?”

Rodney shrugged, deliberately casual. “Nah. I think we can handle it. We’re a pair of seasoned, front-line Pegasus explorers, right?”

Evan smiled. “That we are. Meet you at the ready room in ten?”

Rodney nodded. “In ten.”

Once they were both outfitted with tac vests and weapons, they set off for Sector One. Evan was more or less retracing his steps from a previous exploration mission. Rodney trekked along beside him, carrying an LSD and energy scanner.

“I’m honestly surprised we never went looking for the drone storage facility before,” Evan said, striding along, rifle in hand. “It’s not like we couldn’t figure out where they are. You saw where they were in that other city, right? On Planet Mara? So we could have figured out where they are on Atlantis.”

Rodney slewed him a look. “We’ve never figured out where they are.”

“Well -” Evan furrowed his brow. “I mean, when I’m in the chair, I can - _feel_ Atlantis. I can sense where she’s damaged and where energy is flowing and - it’s hard to explain. I’m not like John. She talks to him.”

“She,” Rodney echoed. “Like - like the way flyboys and sailors call their planes and ships ‘she’?”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. Atlantis feels like - _she_.”

Rodney held out the scanner, waved it out in a show of looking for appropriate energy signals. “So, California. Can you surf, like John?”

“I can probably surf better than John. He grew up surfing Virginia Beach, but I started surfing as soon as I learned how to swim. I can snowboard, too. Colorado Springs and all that.”

Rodney was pretty damn bad at small talk. He thought quickly, mind racing, for the next topic of discussion, and finally he decided - screw it. He spun and tackled Evan against the nearest wall.

“Whoa! What -? It’s my job to protect you, Rodney, get behind me.” Evan flipped them so Rodney was pressed against the wall, and then he drew his rifle, scanned the hallway.

Rodney growled, grabbed Evan’s tac vest, and hauled him in for a kiss.

Evan melted against him obligingly, cupping Rodney’s face and stroking a thumb along his jaw, parting his lips and letting Rodney plunder his mouth.

“Oh,” Evan murmured, startled and delighted, when they separated for air. “Is this what you wanted?”

“There may legitimately be drones here,” Rodney said, “but I wanted to get you - alone. And uninterrupted.” He turned them so Evan was back against the wall.

Evan gazed at Rodney from beneath his lashes. “Well, now you have me. What are you going to do with me?”

“I,” Rodney said, thumbing open the top button of Evan’s fly, “am going to blow your mind.”

Rodney had never minded giving head. Wasn’t super turned on by the act, like Evan seemed to be, but once he had Evan’s pants open and his boxer briefs pushed out of the way, there was something extremely gratifying about seeing Evan so, so hard for him. So Rodney eased down to his knees, grasped Evan’s cock in one hand, and swirled his tongue over the head.

Evan gasped sharply, hips jerking, and Rodney pinned his hips against the wall with one hand.

Rodney proceeded like a good scientist, experimenting with pressure and suction, lips and tongue and the barest hint of teeth until Evan was rock-hard and moaning.

“You like that?” Rodney asked, peering up at Evan, whose face was flushed, his chest heaving.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

And Rodney laughed, pleased. “Good.” He took a deep breath, swallowed to suppress his gag reflex, and swallowed Evan to the root.

Evan cried out, and Rodney hummed, bobbing his head ever so gently.

Evan scrabbled at Rodney’s shoulders, wriggling against the hand pinning him to the wall. He started chanting Rodney’s name, voice ragged and wrecked, a chorus, a warning -

Rodney pulled back as Evan came, hot and sticky and musky. His entire body was trembling, and Rodney had to put both hands on him to keep him upright. When Evan finally came down, Rodney helped him clean up and fix his clothes - and then Evan tugged him into a kiss, tasting himself on Rodney’s tongue.

“You definitely blew my mind,” Evan breathed, grinning, and there was something boyish and delighted in his smile that made Rodney warm inside.

“You’re not the only one who aims to please,” Rodney said. “Now come on - let’s see if we can find some drones.”

They didn’t end up finding drones, but Rodney was pretty sure the outing was productive, because suddenly Evan was much more - available, in a way he hadn’t been before. Rodney wasn’t quite sure what to do with Evan bringing him coffee and extra treats in the lab when he swung by to see if any scientists needed him for lightswitch duty. And he wasn’t sure what to do with Evan dropping in on the social time he had with John (and he had so much more social time with John now, which he hadn’t thought would be possible, what with personnel in Atlantis still ticking upward in efforts to return to Pegasus and rebuild Earth’s defenses). But Rodney would come by John’s quarters, and there Evan would be, sprawled in John’s chair, feet kicked up on the bed while he sketched and John read (still plugging away at _War and Peace_ ). Usually John would close his book and ask Rodney how his day had been, and Rodney would plop down on the bed beside John and complain about someone’s stupidity, but he felt bad, complaining in front of Evan when he knew what Evan had to put up with. So he hovered uncertainly beside the bed for a second, and then Evan looked up at him and smiled.

“How was your day?”

So Rodney launched into the rant he’d been composing as he slunk down the hallway to John’s quarters.

“You sound really stressed out,” Evan said, and he sounded genuinely sympathetic, but Rodney wasn’t used to, well, sympathy.

John would still make sarcastic comments and offer up tales of Marines’ stupidity, so that was normal, but Rodney felt wrong-footed in the face of Evan’s earnest sympathy.

“Want a neck rub?” Evan was already closing his sketchbook and setting it aside.

Rodney blinked.

John said, “You definitely want a neck rub.”

And somehow it became normal for Rodney to complain about his day and give John a chance to complain about his day while Evan gave both of them neck rubs. By some sort of weird unspoken agreement, Evan and Rodney took turns staying with John for the night, and after they were all wound down from decompressing about their days - days had regular routines, now that none of them were going offworld - one of them would bid the others good night and depart.

It was all so - domestic, Rodney realized. He’d never fancied himself a very domesticated person, knew his sister would have described him as a feral alley cat with a facility for physics and engineering. It shouldn’t have been possible to be domesticated when a man had nominally two lovers and fought vicious aliens on a regular basis, but somehow between Rodney’s coffee breaks with John and his random hook-ups with Evan it had become normal to spend time with both men at the end of the day.

But there was still a line un-crossed, and it was sex. Actual sex. Not just handjobs and blowjobs and rubbing till they both came, but the real deal. When it came to men, Rodney’s previous partners would have described Rodney as a switch-hitter. He was pretty sure John was a top, given his whole macho military thing, and that wasn’t bad. But somehow they’d never crossed that line, and Rodney wasn’t sure he could work up the nerve it would take to make the first move toward another big step. He’d thought once things with Evan were a bit more open, they would move in that direction, but their relationship seemed to have stalled.

Sure, Rodney was getting - and giving - plenty more orgasms than he’d had in the previous five years combined, and he felt - lighter. More energized. More positive about his work (though the lack of mortal peril and the regular schedule and conveniences of being on Earth might have had something to do with that). But he knew that aspect of their relationship was missing, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He felt kind of like a jerk, but he waited till Evan was on a day-trip to the mainland before he broached the subject with John.

“Sex?” John asked.

“Actual sex.”

“We’ve been having sex.”

Rodney held up his jar of homemade lube. “I mean _actual_ sex.”

John blinked. “Is that? Did you make -?”

“I have very sensitive skin,” Rodney said, defensive and embarrassed.

John did that thing where he dipped his head, gaze going unfocused while he spoke to Atlantis, and then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

It was Rodney’s turn to blink. “Wait, is that a yes?”

John yanked Rodney in for a kiss, hot and open-mouthed and wanton, and Rodney got with the program fast.

John was gratifyingly hard when they were both finally naked and on the bed, Rodney on his back, John leaning over him and kissing him thoroughly, stroking him. Rodney pressed the jar into John’s hands.

“Take me,” he whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Fucking sure, so get to fucking me, please.”

John laughed softly, his voice shaky with lust. “Since you said please.”

Rodney had heard all the jokes about how pilots were good with their hands, had great hand-eye coordination, could multi-task, but for John those jokes were truth. He was careful and sure and thorough as he prepped Rodney, his hands warm and soldier-callused. He was a virtuoso and Rodney’s body was his instrument. John’s hands were everywhere, smoothing over his hip at the first hints of penetration, teasing his nipples to distract him from the burn of adding a second finger, and then -

Oh. Pilots had to be good at angles.

John crooked his fingers just so, and fireworks went off behind Rodney’s eyelids.

John stroked, prepping, no not prepping, teasing, and Rodney’s cock was rock-hard and leaking, and when Rodney managed to open his eyes John was just as aroused, and Rodney said,

“I thought I told you to fuck me, John Sheppard.”

John eased his fingers out of Rodney and slid up between his thighs. He reached down, curled his fingers around Rodney’s cock, and then -

“Fuck!” Rodney gasped.

John, buried in him to the root, grinned. “That was what you asked for.” And he began to rock his hips, maddeningly slow.

Each thrust sent fireworks dancing in Rodney’s vision, and he wriggled his hips impatiently. “More. I want more. Faster. Harder.”

“Whatever you want,” John murmured, and kissed him. He began to thrust in earnest, and Rodney clung to his shoulders for dear life as each stroke rocked through him, and then John was speeding up, and he reached between them, skimmed his palm against the head of Rodney’s cock, and Rodney crested.

Came with a cry, face buried against John’s throat. John grunted at Rodney tightening around him and sped up, rhythm becoming jagged as he came too.

John pulled out and collapsed beside Rodney, arms around him, and together they drowsed.

They woke hours later, and John got them a warm washcloth to clean up. Rodney started to reach for his clothes, but John stilled his hand, pushed the jar of lube toward him.

Rodney raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

John ducked his head, and he looked - shy. Which he shouldn’t have been, given that he was sitting on the bed beside Rodney, fully nude and glorious. “Yeah. I want you to. Will you?”

Rodney pinned John to the bed and immediately slid down John’s body to use his mouth on John while he prepped John with one hand. John was beautifully responsive, murmuring Rodney’s name, fingertips flying over Rodney’s skin like he couldn’t figure out where to hold on, his narrow hips rolling up to meet Rodney’s mouth and down to meet his fingers.

When Rodney finally slid into John, John cried out Rodney’s name, and the raw note in his voice spurred Rodney on. They’d just established a rhythm - John’s legs around Rodney’s waist, Rodney on his knees and thrusting - when the door hissed open.

They both froze.

The door hissed shut, and Evan crossed the room, digging around in a shopping bag. “So, I didn’t manage to find any of those caramels Rodney likes, but -” He lifted his head, and his eyes went wide. Then he said, “Atlantis, lock down Imperator’s quarters. No override except by Secondem or Scientia.”

And there was a little ‘beep’ as John’s door locked.

The three men stared at each other. And then John tugged Rodney in for a kiss and resumed thrusting, stroking his own cock, and apparently John had some kind of exhibitionist streak, because he came hard seconds later.

Rodney was off-kilter enough that John’s orgasm didn’t send him over the top.

Evan stared at John, his gaze opaque. He set the shopping bag aside, motions slow and deliberate, and then he glanced at Rodney.

“So, you’re ready for this?”

John, lying on the bed, breathless and blissed out, nodded.

“Rodney?” Evan asked.

“Yes?” Rodney asked through gritted teeth, pulling out of John, who smiled dopily at him.

“Are _you_ ready for this?”

“What is this?”

“My turn.” Evan lifted the hem of his shirt meaningfully.

Rodney was incredibly turned on but still panicking at the sound of the door opening, because they could have been caught, and he was a little dazed. “Your turn for what?”

“Take me,” Evan said.

Rodney blinked. “Wait, what?”

Evan peeled off his shirt and stepped closer to the bed, toeing off his shoes as he approached. “Take me.”

Rodney glanced at John.

John nodded, his eyes bright with feverish intensity. “Do it.” He grinned at Evan. “Oh man, that would be so hot. Do it.”

Evan could undress as fast as he could dress, and soldiers could dress damn fast lest they have to go into battle in their underwear, so he was naked and fully aroused by the time he reached the bed. Rodney might have been hesitant, but then Evan knelt on the bed and slid a hand between his own thighs and -

“Oh, Evan.” John threw his head back and groaned. “You didn’t.”

“Preparation is the key to air power,” Evan said, a certain sly glint in his eye, and -

Rodney stared at the slim black plug Evan laid on the edge of the bed. “You were wearing that while you were out? All day?”

“Stopped by my own quarters before coming here,” Evan said, and he crawled toward Rodney, gaze hungry. “I figured John would be missing me, but I see he’s been well taken care of. So I think, in the interest of egalitarianism between us, it’s my turn. Ready, Rodney?”

“Am I?” Rodney asked John.

John nodded fervently. “He comes just from being fucked. You don’t even have to touch him. Just your cock in his body. It’s so hot.”

Evan sprawled out on the bed beside John and gazed up at Rodney with hooded eyes. “C’mon, Rodney. I’m ready when you are.”

Rodney was still so hard. The thought of taking Evan, of making him come with the same hard-on he’d used to drive John to orgasm was -

Rodney slid between Evan’s parted thighs, and Evan reached down to help guide him, and -

Oh. Yes. Hot. Tight. Slick. Bliss. Evan had prepped himself thoroughly, and Rodney grasped Evan’s hips, pulled Evan up onto his lap and began to thrust. John hadn’t been kidding. Evan went wild, writhing on Rodney’s cock, nipples pebbled hard, a flush spreading down his throat and chest, head thrown back and a litany of nonsense spilling from his lips, _oh_ and _more_ and _yes_ and _harder_ and words that weren’t in English. Rodney clutched Evan’s hips and thrust his way to completion, and came with a shuddering cry, and Evan followed soon after, tightening on Rodney’s cock and sending aftershocks ripping through him, and for a second Rodney might have blacked out.

He awakened a few moments later when John, who’d found his legs, brought them a warm washcloth to clean up with, and then it was all three of them, piled onto the bed, like that first night.

“So,” Rodney said to Evan, who was curled up on the other side of John. “You can command Atlantis to - what was it you told her to do?”

“Ha,” John said, with drowsy triumph. “You referred to Atlantis as _her_.”

“I told Atlantis to lock John’s door and only let me or you override it,” Evan said.

“But you spoke - Latin.” Rodney tucked his head under John’s chin and listened to his heart. He and Evan were of a height and so John just sort of naturally fit above them.

“Atlantis has designations for us,” Evan said. “John is Imperator, I’m Imperator Secondem, and you’re Scientia. Beckett used to be Imperator Secondem and I was Imperator Tertiem, but then - well.” He shrugged one shoulder.

“What was that you were saying about caramels?” John asked. “Before -” He waved a hand vaguely.

“You mentioned Rodney likes a type of fancy caramels. I couldn’t find the brand - I actually think it’s a Scottish one not available over here, and I didn’t have time to find the right international store, but I found some handmade caramels at a boutique chocolatier’s down by the university.” Evan sounded drowsy.

“Those sound delicious,” Rodney said.

Evan hummed his agreement. “Like your cock.”

Rodney blushed brightly.

John huffed. “You are the very definition of cock-hungry.”

“Says the cock-greedy bastard who has two boyfriends now,” Evan mumbled into John’s skin.

Two boyfriends now.

Huhn.

Was Evan also Rodney’s boyfriend?

He wasn’t sure, although he supposed he should have been, because in the next few weeks that followed, Rodney’s random hook-ups with Evan progressed from handjobs and blowjobs and that dizzying breath thing Evan could do to full-on sex, including a quickie the pilot seat of a jumper, up against a wall on another ‘city exploration’ mission, and bent over a workbench in an unused lab.

It took Rodney a couple of weeks to notice, but once again, there was a pattern. Evan never topped. He never complained, because John wasn’t kidding - Evan could come untouched just from being fucked, though when they had limited time Rodney didn’t hesitate to play with Evan’s nipples or cock to get him to orgasm faster.

But Rodney still felt like there was one last step to take. And he didn’t know how to broach the subject.

He and Radek had made excellent progress on the naquadah super-generator to get Atlantis back to Pegasus. They’d settled on a five-generator configuration (because something about Ancient technology went well when prime numbers were involved), and they’d passed the project off to some of the newer scientists to work out the kinks while they tackled the question of Merlin’s device and extended periods of being out of phase with the rest of their solar system (and galaxy and universe).

Being on Earth had its benefits, because they had a seemingly endless supply of mice to test the device on. It had taken them a while to even design the experiment, and then implementing it - sending the mice out of phase for multiple periods of time, each longer than the last, and then subjecting the mice to a battery of tests (and getting assistance from the zoologists) - but they must have been doing well enough, because the IOA had started to - relax.

About Atlantis, and sending it back to Pegasus, and rotating personnel in and out. Now that they’d more or less contained the issue of Atlantis in San Francisco Bay, security on the base was a lot more lax, and people could have more free time on the mainland. Rodney didn’t particularly care what story was being sold, he was just glad he could go over to the city and walk around and breathe fresh air and get away from the other idiots in the lab.

And maybe have a clandestine dinner or two with John. Since it was San Francisco, no one would have ratted them out, but they were careful, all the same. Most of the military personnel were instructed to hide their military identity while they were in the city so no one would connect the regular influx of personnel with the goings on in the Bay, so no one knew John was a soldier, but -

Rodney cared about John, knew John cared about his career (despite many appearances to the contrary), and he wanted John to feel safe. So they went out, but they were careful.

Rodney’s favorite thing remained, however, beer on the pier. Just the two of them. Now that the IOA was convinced no one would see people who dared to poke their noses out of their windows in the city, the Marines had resumed running along the interconnected balconies, and some people (Beckett) started fishing off of one of the piers (there was still a moratorium on golfing off the piers and balconies, though).

Beer on the pier belonged to John and Rodney. It was their thing. Rodney wasn’t sure what John’s special thing was with Evan (now that Rodney was part of sleeping in John’s bed and using Evan’s coffee maker for coffee breaks). He suspected it had to do with their shared past and the foreign language they shared.

(Irish, John said. It’s called Irish. No, not Gaelic. Irish. It’s its own language. Ask Carson. He’ll tell you Scottish is its own language too. Maybe they call it Scotch Gaelic, but seriously. Different languages.)

Evan never complained about beer on the pier, never asked to join them, just smiled and nodded when John snagged a couple of beers from his mini-fridge and said he and Rodney were headed out to the pier.

One evening, Rodney was waiting on the edge of the pier, idly swinging his bare feet and watching the sun go down over the city.

“I think we figured it out,” he said when John approached, sat down beside him.

“Figured what out?” John leaned in and kissed him hello, brief and chaste and sweet.

“About getting Merlin’s device to work on Earth against The Wraith, should more of them ever come,” Rodney said.

John lit up. “So we can go back to Pegasus?”

“Soon, I hope. If the IOA comes up with some stupid reason to keep us after all that hard work Radek and I did, I will throw a hissy fit of epic proportions.”

John nodded. “I’ll help, if you like. Evan can help. He won’t throw a hissy fit, but he’ll do - something Bluebell that will make them regret trying to keep us here.”

Rodney cast him a sidelong glance. “Bluebell. Such a curious pet name.”

“Not a pet name,” John said. “And I didn’t give it to him. He says it was because of his blue eyes, when he was a kid.”

“He does have lovely blue eyes.” Rodney huffed in amusement. “Baby John, though? Seriously? Watch too much _West Side Story_ as a kid?”

John shrugged. “It was what my father called me, and it stuck. His men started to call me that as well, since Master John never took, and neither did Master Sheppard.”

“Master John? How Dickensian.”

“My expensive nannies tried very hard to make us respectable.”

“Of course you had expensive nannies.”

“And a pony.”

Their easy banter was disrupted by footsteps.

Both men turned at the same time, and there was Evan. He wore an expression of mildness, calmness, but Rodney recognized the tense set of his shoulders.

“Everything all right?” John asked.

Evan held out two bottles of beer. “You forgot these.”

John reached up and accepted them. “Thanks.”

Evan nodded. “Welcome.” He turned to go.

Rodney reached out and caught his wrist. “Why don’t you stay?”

Evan paused, glanced at John. Rodney looked at John.

John exhaled, and he looked - relieved. “Yeah, Evan. Stay.”

Rodney tugged lightly, and Evan sank down beside him, on the other side of him from John. He reached down and unlaced his shoes, set them aside, peeled off his socks and put one in each shoe.

“Why do you do that?” Rodney asked.

“So I remember which sock was on which foot,” Evan said easily.

“Organization is the key to air power,” John said, and raised his bottle in mock salute.

Rodney twisted the top off his bottle and offered it to Evan. “Here, you can share mine.”

“Thanks.” Evan accepted the bottle, drank briefly, handed it back. “The sunset is lovely. I’d forgotten how its colors flow.”

“Sunsets on New Lantea are pretty,” Rodney said.

John arched an eyebrow at him.

“I think,” Rodney amended. “Usually I was too busy, you know, saving our asses to stop and look at the sunset.”

“Every planet has its own - mood. Its own colors,” Evan said.

“I think just about every planet looks like Canada,” John said, and Rodney poked him in the ribs reproachfully, earning startled laughter.

“So,” Rodney said. “Baby John and Bluebell.”

“Not names we chose for ourselves,” Evan said.

“So John told me. If I’d grown up like you, what would my nickname have been?”

“I’m glad you didn’t grow up like us.” Evan’s gaze turned solemn. “Not sure you’d need a nickname, though. They’d probably just have called you Reddy. Anyone who had a name in the mother tongue got to keep that name.”

“Reddy?” Rodney echoed.

“In the original Welsh,” Evan said, “your name is pronounced _Me-RED-dith_. It’s still commonly a boy’s name over there, and the nickname that goes with it is Reddy. Unless you’d rather be called Rod?” And he flicked a glance down toward Rodney’s lap that made John nearly snort beer out his nose.

“I hate my first name,” Rodney muttered.

“I hated being called Bluebell.”

“Let me tell you,” John said, “it’s pretty damn undignified to be the wrong side of thirty-five and to still have all your relatives call you Baby John.”

“But Bluebell and Baby John sound kind of - exotic. Like, Baby John is a gangster name. And Bluebell is...I don’t know. Ironically badass,” Rodney said.

“I’ll be sure to get that printed on a t-shirt,” Evan said wryly. “Or my tombstone. ‘Here lies Evan Lorne. He was ironically badass.’”

“Reddy is just - it rhymes with Teddy. Like a Teddy bear.” Rodney sighed and drank some more beer.

“Well,” Evan said, “with the right application, I think Reddy could sound perfectly fine.”

“How so?”

Evan leaned in and curled a hand around Rodney’s elbow, murmured in rolling syllables and soft vowels. His voice sent tingles down Rodney’s spine. John’s eyes went wide. Rodney had no idea what Evan was saying, but he heard rolled into the rest of the syllables, _Reddy,_ breathless, like a prayer, like a -

John took a long pull from his beer bottle.

“What is he saying?” Rodney asked.

“I’m not sure I should repeat it in polite company,” John said.

Evan sat back, looking self-satisfied. “See? In the right context, Reddy sounds just fine.”

Rodney stood up, offered Evan his hand. “I’m a scientist. I’m open-minded. Tell me more.”

Evan let Rodney help him to his feet, then scooped up his shoes.

“What about me?” John asked.

Rodney started for the pier doors. He glanced over his shoulder. “You should come along. We’re going to be using your room.”

John was on his feet in a flash, empty beer bottles in hand, and trotting after them.

They made their way back to John’s room in companionable silence. The irony of it all, Rodney thought, was that if anyone saw the three of them heading to John’s room, no one would suspect what was going on between them, because no one on the Expedition could imagine that all three of them were together in some strange, complex arrangement of twos and threes here and there and any time they had a spare moment. John and Evan - suspicious. John and Rodney - very suspicious. Evan and Rodney - less suspicious. But the three of them? Obviously just hanging out.

John had the nerve to smile and exchange pleasantries with some Marines they passed, as if taunting fate.

But when they reached John’s room, John closed the door and swiped his hand over the lock a second time so it flared red, and finally, it was time.

“Do you top?” Rodney asked Evan, unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

“He’s a fantastic top,” John said.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rodney said, gaze fixed on Evan. “Do you?”

“Sometimes. I honestly have no preference either way.” Evan shrugged, sounding nonchalant, but his gaze was locked on Rodney’s hands as he unfastened another button, and another.

“And yet you always bottom for me,” Rodney said.

“I guess we fell into a rut.”

Rodney laughed. “If that’s your idea of a rut, I’m not sure I could handle actual spontaneity from you.”

“I don’t think he’s capable of that,” John said, and Evan said something to him in Irish that made him laugh.

“You mentioned earlier about educating me in all the ways Reddy could be a decent nickname in the right context.” Rodney shrugged his shirt off and set it aside. “I’m a scientist. I have an open mind. I want to learn new things. So educate me, Evan Lorne. While you top me.”

Evan’s eyes went wide, and he nodded. “All right.” He crossed the room in a few quick strides, stilled Rodney’s hands with his. “Let me.” He leaned in and nuzzled that spot behind Rodney’s jaw, just below his ear, and Rodney flashed back to that time in the jumper, on the floor, with Evan telling him how beautiful he was.

Evan kissed his way down Rodney’s throat, murmuring between kisses, nibbled at his collarbone, swept his hands down Rodney’s chest and then his clever hands were unbuckling Rodney’s belt.

“On the bed,” Evan said, and he backed Rodney toward John’s bed, guided him down onto it, and crawled up the bed with him, stealing kisses and still murmuring softly.

Over Evan’s shoulder, Rodney could see John sprawled out in one of the chairs, watching, toying idly with the fly of his own jeans, grinning.

“Are you sure?” Evan asked. He unzipped Rodney’s pants and paused.

“Sure,” Rodney said.

Evan dipped his head and caught Rodney’s mouth in a kiss, worked Rodney’s pants down over his hips. Rodney arched up to help him, and Evan pulled back. He slid Rodney’s pants all the way off and then knelt there, at Rodney’s feet, gazing at him.

“One of the things I also want to educate you about,” Evan said, “is how beautiful you are. We’ve talked about this before, but I don’t think you understand it entirely. So, I want you to watch my body and how I react to you, and understand. You are beautiful to me.” He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of Rodney’s knee, gaze never leaving Rodney’s, and Rodney felt oddly vulnerable. Not because he was naked and Evan wasn’t, because they’d been like this before. And not because John was watching, because John had done that before too.

There was something in Evan’s eyes that made Rodney feel raw, like every nerve-ending was exposed, and one wrong move could burn him.

Evan pressed another kiss to the inside of Rodney’s thigh.

The right move could set him on fire.

Rodney nodded, and Evan smiled against his skin. He kissed his way up, up, up to the crease in Rodney’s thigh, and then he pressed more delicate-soft kisses along the smooth skin of Rodney’s belly.

Rodney’s breath hitched in anticipation.

Evan paused. “Little help?”

John, who had his pants open and was stroking himself leisurely, reached out and tugged open his desk drawer, tossed Evan a familiar jar.

Evan caught it one-handed - pilot reflexes - and set it on the bed, unscrewed the lid. He dipped two fingers inside and leaned back in, nosed along the underside of Rodney’s cock.

Warm breath scrolled over the tip right before Evan’s lips closed over it, and Rodney let out a strangled cry. Evan slid one slick finger into him, crooked it, and Rodney bucked sharply.

Evan backed off, murmured roughly, “Easy, easy. I’ll slow down.” He lowered his head again, sucking gently, and slowly opened Rodney, one finger at a time. When he pulled back and straightened up, Rodney could see how turned on Evan was, cock hard and dark and glistening at the tip. Evan dipped his fingers into the jar of lube again and lubed himself up.

“Easy now,” John said. “Don’t want to finish before you get started.”

Evan stroked himself lightly, his breath uneven. “See, Rodney? See what your body does to me?”

Rodney nodded frantically. “I see, I see. I’m ready, Evan, please -”

Evan leaned over him, lining up carefully, his weight on one arm, guiding himself with his other hand, and eased in. Inch by inch, stroking Rodney’s hip and murmuring soothingly in Irish, because though he was shorter than John, he was thicker, and the pressure was exquisite, once Evan was all the way in.

Evan propped himself up on his elbows, shaking with need, and gazed into Rodney’s eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, “and I love you.” And he pulled back and thrust in again, a single sure stroke that made Rodney go blind for an instant, every fiber of his body tuned to that point of contact between them. Evan established a rhythm that was sure and steady, driving Rodney higher and higher toward orgasm, and Rodney closed his eyes and threw his head back, awash in sensation and the sound of Evan’s voice, those rolling syllables and broad vowels and the steady murmur of _Reddy_.

John said, “Hold up,” and Evan, damn obedient soldier that he was, paused mid-thrust.

Rodney opened his eyes. “What?”

John was naked and kneeling behind Evan on the bed, and he had the jar of lube in hand.

Rodney’s eyes went wide. “Wait, are you -?”

Evan thrust ever-so-slightly, his breath rushing out of him, and he started to shake. “ _Sean,_ ” he gasped.

A string of nonsense fell from his lips while John smirked at Rodney from over Evan’s shoulder, and then John was scooting closer to Evan and suddenly Evan rocked forward into Rodney. John’s knuckles brushed the insides of Rodney’s thighs where he was grasping Evan’s hips and fucking him into Rodney.

It took them a few rounds, but then they had it, a rhythm, John into Evan into Rodney and back again, the three of them moving in heady synchronization until Evan’s rhythm went unsteady, and he curled over Rodney, thrusting in earnest, and he curled his hand over Rodney’s cock and stroked, and then Rodney was coming, and Evan was coming, and John tugged Evan back from Rodney up onto his lap and thrust raggedly, and he came with a yell.

He and Evan untangled themselves and collapsed to the bed, on either side of Rodney.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” Evan murmured. “We need to clean up.”

“Later,” Rodney said gently, pressing a kiss to his hair. He rolled onto his side, pressed up beside Evan, and John spooned up behind him. “Love you too.”

All three of them fell asleep.

Three nights later, after Rodney and Radek reported the conclusions of their Out Of Phase Mice study to the IOA, the IOA announced its decision to let Atlantis return to Pegasus.

John, Evan, and Rodney celebrated with beers on the pier.


End file.
